Bare Ruined Palace
by Bill Yarrow
These halls, these walls
Naked sacredness is too much to bear
Not bronze nor silk nor bone nor pearl
The cool embrace of the saffron air
The marble imagination transports the driest soul
Every encounter is a dance, every secret has its key
Black kites screech in the varnished sky
Rhino hornbills palaver in the trees
The future is bejeweled
The past is unembossed
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Author's Note
This poem appeared in Pure Slush on April 6, 2012.
Thanks, Matt Potter!
It also appears in Pointed Sentences (BlazeVox 2012).
Other stories by Bill Yarrow
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I wish I had tools to say something about poetry. The balance in language and structure fit the content and make this pleasing to me.
Tonight poetry is making less sense than usual to me, yet it is very beautiful.
Black kites screech in the varnished sky
Rhino hornbills *
"Black kites screech in the varnished sky"
That *is* nice.
Transporting. Love this.
"The cool embrace of the saffron air".
!!
Wowsh!
India? It seems a perfect match.
...bare ruined choirs as well?
Bill I loved this in Pure Slush India Month and love it here again. In very few words India comes slamming in a quiet whooosh...
*